


Slice of Life

by Binxxx



Category: Naruto
Genre: Dom/sub Undertones, Domestic Bliss, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Light Angst, Modern AU, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Slice of Life, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-22 12:40:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22716211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Binxxx/pseuds/Binxxx
Summary: Small glimpses into Sakura's and Gaara relationship. The good, the bad, the ugly, and the beautiful.
Relationships: Gaara & Haruno Sakura, Gaara/Haruno Sakura
Comments: 18
Kudos: 131





	Slice of Life

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MindTrash](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MindTrash/gifts).



> Sup. This is a gift for MindTrash aka Pika, for a Valentine's Day gift exchange. I hope you like it bby. 
> 
> (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KRQIZTuEAnU) This first scene in this story is based off this video. You will need to watch it for educational purposes and it squeal because it is adorable.

The record-breaking heat wave that currently had a hold over Konoha was not only dizzying, but as it turned out, extremely costly. Costly because their main air conditioning unit had broken from overuse and strain. That was fourteen days ago. She had called the manufacturing company the very same day it had broken. When the repairmen never showed up the following day as promised, she waited. She knew they weren't the only ones experiencing problems. Then, after multiple rather heated—no pun intended—conversations with the repair company owner when no one had shown up to fix anything for a week, and a reimbursed three-thousand dollars later—the repairmen had finally appeared to install the new unit and alleviate the hell that had become their home.

Sakura took a sip from her passion fruit refresher as she eyed the repair crew fluttering in and out of their home. Though she would have preferred the damn unit have been fixed two weeks ago, at least the repair was costing her exactly _nothing._ The pink haired woman was relaxing on a pool lounge chair, though they had no pool, rather scantly in the yard, soaking in the rays of the sun.

Gaara appeared from around the around their house, wearing a pair of black gym shorts, sandals, and nothing else. Sakura pretended to look away, but she ogled his bare chest through the corner of her eye. He ignored her as he walked towards their garden hose—he was a man on a mission. Sakura noticed a familiar fat raccoon trotting behind him. Shukaku followed the red head earnestly, and if he wasn’t such a temperamental and destructive little beast, Sakura would have cooed at how adorable he looked following Gaara.

Gaara’s green eyes were narrowed and sharp, lingering on the absurd number of repairmen currently walking in and out of their home through the window, watching long enough to ascertain their threat level as he grabbed the water hose. His caution, while much more subdued now then it was years prior, spoke to his upbringing. Even repairmen could not be trusted.

Sakura moved her pink tresses from her face to better spy on him. His sixth sense, or just an obsessive overly keen sense of observation, was fast, and Gaara’s gaze suddenly zeroed-in on her and stuck.

Every atom of oxygen was sucked out of her at his intense gaze. What was air when the king of the desert himself had acknowledged her? Her female vanity preened under his stare. Every time he looked at her like that, she felt that familiar fluttering of butterflies in the pit of her stomach. It reminded her of the first time they had met. She sat up, lowering her sunglasses to match his hard gaze with her own and allowing her cherry-red lips to curl into a self-satisfied smile.

Something flashed in Gaara’s eyes. He was an alpha sniffing out prey in his territory. Taking the time to look her over also, he hungrily eyed her bare legs and stomach currently on display in a pair of cut denim shorts, that bordered on indecent, and cropped red sleeveless top.

“What are you doing?” she said.

He finally broke eye contact and reached for the facet to turn on the hose. When a long steady stream of water poured out, he didn’t answer her, instead he showed her what he intended to do.

Sakura watched as he poured water on the floor and onto Shukaku. The fat raccoon stretched out on the concrete, wiggling around on the wet floor, reaching with his grubby little hands to try to clutch at the water. It seemed they weren’t only ones dying of the heat.

Gaara, with his favorite blank expression on his face, watched as Shukaku sat under the cold water, his large belly protruding out, staring off into the distance.

Sakura snorted at the ridiculous display, drinking the last drops of her passion fruit juice. She made a spectacle of stretching, arching her back and letting her breasts jut out, his eyes following her every moment. She pouted and shook her empty glass at Gaara.

“I’m still thirsty. Could you please get me more?” she asked coyly.

Sakura shrieked as he turned the hose onto her, spraying her with cold water. The pinkette scrambled off the lounger, shriving at the extreme change in temperature. Gaara turned the hose back onto Shukaku, who had quickly grown upset his precious water had been taken from him.

Gaara drank in her wet form, enjoying how the water made her tiny excuse of a shirt cling to her chest. And what a treat, she wasn’t wearing a bra.

“Are you still thirsty now?” he said, smiling.

* * *

“I think we should make things more interesting this time.”

Gaara hummed in response, continuing to wrap his fingers and hand with the boxing tape.

“How so?” he said.

Sakura twirled her fingers together, feigning innocence. The pair was getting ready to spar, as was their tradition every Sunday morning. Though today, it seemed, she wanted to up the ante.

“Loser has to do what the winner wants.”

Gaara raised his head. Now that was interesting. He looked at her inquisitively, and said, “Anything I want?”

She smiled and nodded. “Anything.”

“What do you want then?” Gaara said. She wouldn’t have proposed anything if the tricky vixen had not already devised something.

And he was right. His woman was ready, and she hurriedly walked towards their coat closet and pulled out a large frilly looking shopping bag with an ungodly amount of tissue paper. She brought it over and handed it to him.

Gaara put the tape down and ripped the tissue paper out of the bag. He looked up at her and visibly balked, blinking rapidly, almost not believing what he saw inside the bag.

His partially wrapped hands reached into the bag and pulled out a ridiculous looking purple Lolita dress, a red pig-tailed wig, and a coordinating white apron and purple headband. 

Sakura bit her lip, trying to contain the laughter at the obvious shock on his face.

“If I win—” she said, trying to look bashful but only succeeding in looking mischievous, “—you have to wear this for me. You don’t need to wear it out, I just want to see you in it.” She winked at him.

Gaara scoffed. He’d make her pay for this, but he would agree, for those were the rules, and it’s not like he would lose. He would get what he wanted and punish her.

“Is this dress and wig supposed to be something sexual?”

She rolled her eyes. “No, you pervert. I just think you would look cute in this.”

The red head dropped the items back into the back and continued wrapping his fingers “Fine. I agree to your terms.”

Now that she had not expected. “Really? Just like that?”

“Yes. You won’t win either way.” His voice was ignorant, and her eyes narrowed at his tone.

She crossed her arms. “And why do you sound so sure?”

He looked at her as he spoke, “I want to win more than you.”

She pursed her lips and said, “What is it you want from me that you want to win so badly?”

He didn’t answer her, he only smiled devilishly. He trailed a finger over her exposed stomach. “You’ll find out when you lose.”

* * *

Normally, the sparring matches they would have lasted anywhere between twenty minutes to thirty minutes at most. Their friendly “wager” had pushed their harmless routine towards the two- and half-hour mark. Both were too stubborn to quit, but when the spar had threatened to spill over into the three-hour mark, they had both begrudgingly decided to call it a draw.

Sakura was doubled over on the foam mat, drenched in sweat and her partner was no different. Gaara had rivers of sweat raining down his body, looking like he had just gotten dunked in a pool. The pair was rightfully exhausted but there was still something that needed to be addressed.

Sakura was still breathing heavily when she finally said, “I guess we both technically lost.”

Gaara nodded in agreement. “So, it seems.”

“We both have to pay up then.”

“We do mine first,” he grunted.

Sakura blushed, having already discovered and agreed to his demand early. “Okay.”

* * *

Sakura’s hands had a death grip the bedsheets, but she was mindful not to tear it, if the bedspread had not been so damn expensive, she would be ripping it apart with her nails. Her feet were slick with sweat, and they were slipping against the wooden floor as she tried to stay upright. Gaara stood behind her, fucking into her hard, almost too hard, into their bed. Her cries of pleasure sounded loud in their bedroom, and that was exactly what he wanted.

Any other given day, this would have just been a typical sexy, mid-afternoon romp in their bed, but something was different today.

Gaara was not a technologically savvy man, and trivial things like smartphones and expensive and overly complicated computers served him very little purpose outside of professional necessity, but there was one aspect of technology he greatly enjoyed. The relationship he shared with the roseate begin through mindless texting, which eventually evolved into flirting, which inevitably turned into suggestive texts and provocative photos.

An inconspicuous looking calculator app on his phone (downloaded by Sakura), locked with the longest passcode he had ever seen (also set up by Sakura) held countless of photos of her ranging back all the way to the beginning of their relationship. Some were taken by her, some by him, but what they all had in common was how sexually explicit they were. During his lunch breaks at the dojo—mindful not to have Naruto around him— Gaara would scroll through the dozens of photos, not just to fantasy about what he would to do to her later, but to remind himself how lucky he had gotten finding her.

And while the photos had been enough to tide him over for a while, Gaara had quickly wanted more. Her proposition yesterday had finally given him the opportunity to get what he wanted. And that was how his cellphone ended up propped up on their dresser, recording their every move. Now he would have something fun to watch when she was working late shifts, or most likely when he was bored.

He grabbed a fistful of her hair, pulling her head back. "Tell me what you need."

Sakura moaned, arching back against him. "Please don't stop, I'm so close Gaara," she gasped.

Gaara had explicitly told her to be extra vocal during this. He got off on hearing her moan and beg. He also hoped the sharp slapping of their sex was audible in the video as well.

Sakura's instincts were to muffle her screams against the blankets. Their neighbors had complained more than once about how loud they were. Her cries were flowing freely now—her neighbors be damned.

His rough calloused hands held onto her hips, pulling her back onto his cock roughly. He could feel his end approaching but he wasn’t ready for this to end.

His adorable lover whined when he stopped moving. She turned her head slightly to look at him. “Why did you stop?”

He slapped her ass and said, “On your back.”

Gaara quickly swiped his phone from their dresser, positioning himself back between her legs. He angled the camera to record their sex.

“Fuck,” Gaara groaned. He gripped himself and slid his cock between her folds. Her folds were soaking, and he made sure the camera saw it all.

His left hand still holding the phone, he held onto her thigh as he pushed into her velvet heat again, attempting to keep his hand steady so the camera could see his cock going in and out of her pussy. The wet sound of their bodies meeting over and overv filled the room, followed by their panting breath and moans.

Sakura pinched both her nipples, the ache furthering her chase towards the end. Gaara watched enraptured with her display, his grasp on his phone slipping as he watched her play with her breasts.

Growing increasingly annoyed with the device and his inability to keep it focused, he shoved it into one of Sakura’s hands and said, “Hold it tightly.”

She watched through the phone screen as he pulled her thighs further apart, only to rear back and thrust into her.

Her mouth fell open at the sight before her. His eyes locked with hers and at that moment, she wanted knowing more than to kiss him, but he held himself too far from her, trying not to disrupt the phone's recording.

Sakura whimpered in frustration. “Gaara, I need more. I’m so close.”

“I’ve got you.” His sexy raspy voice made her sigh dreamily. His finger rubbed her clit enthusiastically and she spasmed, dropping the phone face down onto the bed.

Eager hands grasped Gaara by his shoulders, pulling him down to crash her mouth onto his. He groaned into her voice before stopping his thrusts, pulling back to look at her.

“Sakura pick up the—”

“Forget the phone and fuck me. We’ll record another one later.”

And with that said, she pulled him into another kiss, emptying her cries into his mouth. His pace picked back up, and he fucked her further into their bed, the phone long forgotten.

* * *

Sakura hummed to herself contently, brushing the knots out of the red locks of the pigtailed wig. She was the picture of happiness, singing to herself while placing bobby pins into the luscious wig to keep the shiny locks in place.

The man under said wig however was not as jovial. His stoic face had been kissed with the slightest hint of blush and Sakura had outlined his eyes with a shimmery black eyeliner. His lips were shiny with her cherry lip gloss and they had never looked more kissable to her. The kanji on his forehead was surrounded neatly by the artificial red hair of the wig.

He sat in a chair she had dragged into their bathroom. His seafoam eyes looked bored and his face was impassive as he watched her work on him through the mirror. His muscular arms were crossed over his chest and the contrast of the cutesy purple dress with his well-defined muscles was a delightful sight for Sakura.

“How do you feel? Pretty?”

He grunted in response.

Sakura laughed before smiling. “I think you look very pretty. You’re the cutest maid I’ve ever seen.”

On the floor beside the chair lay an atrocious pair of purple heels that hadn’t feet his feet, much to Sakura’s dismay and Gaara’s relief. The dress, the makeup, and even the damn wig he could handle, but he drew the line at the shoes. He knew he’d make a fool of himself in heels.

“Okay. Time to put on your apron.”

His woman smiled at him through the mirror, holding up the overly frilly and ridiculous-looking white apron that was adorned with a giant purple bow. He sighed, getting up and allowing her to tie it around him. The things he did to make her happy.

She smoothed out the wrinkles on his dress and adjusted the purple bow to sit nicely on his chest. Sakura grabbed the final piece of the outfit, a purple headband, and nestled it onto his head and into the wig.

He smirked as she clapped and bounced in obvious elation. She clasped her hands together under her chin and sighed as she looked at him.

“You look beautiful.”

He leaned in to place a delicate kiss on her lips. He watched her tongue lick the remnant of the gloss off and he felt a familiar stirring in his groin.

“Thank you,” he said.

* * *

As Sakura walked through the door, she toed off her shoes, her feet sore from the long hours spent standing during her shift at the hospital. The roseate dropped her bag and keys onto the side table next to the door, rubbing her also sore neck. Her phone buzzed and she dug through her purse to find it.

 **Text From** : Gaara 🦝🏜️

5:38 PM

_Are you home?_

**Text From** : Sakura 🌸

 **To:** Gaara 🦝🏜️

5:38 PM

 _Just got here. I’ll start dinner_ _😚_

Nearing the kitchen, she heard a familiar rustling noise. The roseate stepped further into the room, and upon turning on the lights, saw garbage littering the ground near the trash. She let out a loud frustrated groan. She walked over to the garbage bin that had been closed and locked with a child lock when she left this morning, but now it laid open. The baby proofing lock was broken on the ground. She rubbed her temple as she peeked into bin.

Not surprised in the slightest, Sakura found Shukaku sitting on a pile of old noodles, his hands greedily shoving the disgusting food into his mouth.

Her eye twitched as Shukaku kept eating his meal while continuing to maintain eye contact with her. His beady eyes seemed to shine with amusement. He was surely mocking her.

“You little beast.”

Sakura grabbed her phone and wrote out a text.

 **Text From** : Sakura 🌸

 **To:** Gaara 🦝🏜️

5:40 PM

_He broke the child lock. He is in the garbage again and there is trash everywhere._

Sakura turned away from the trash to grab the broom, quickly sweeping the garbage and food on the floor. She gripped the broom harder at the sound of Shukaku’s obnoxiously loud chewing. Her phone buzzed again.

 **Text From** : Gaara 🦝🏜️

5:43 PM

_Get him out. I’ll buy stronger locks when I get out._

Sakura put her phone on the counter and rubbed the skin between her eyes. She rolled her shirt sleeves up and reached into the trash. Out came the fat raccoon and she held him up at a distance. He continued to chew his noodles, not caring at all that he was hovering in the air and was no longer in his garbage haven.

“You are evil.”

Shukaku blinked.

She moved him closer before pulling him back. Her face twisted in disgust. “Oh. You _need_ a bath.”

Her nose wrinkled at the repulsive smell that came off the furry creature. Continuing to keep him at arm’s length, she walked with Shukaku towards the bathroom, intent on giving him a long and torturous washing.

* * *

**Text From** : Gaara 🦝🏜️

 **To:** Sakura 🌸

12:20 PM

_Where are my episodes of MasterChef?_

**Text From** : Gaara 🦝🏜️

 **To:** Sakura 🌸

12:22 PM

_Did you delete the four episodes I recorded?_

**Text From** : Gaara 🦝🏜️

 **To:** Sakura 🌸

12:23 PM

_You deleted them._

**Text From** : Gaara 🦝🏜️

 **To:** Sakura 🌸

12:31 PM

_Disregard the last messages. I found them._

* * *

Temari took a long sip of her tea. She savored the taste before grinning, hitting the send button on her cellphone. She closed the photo album on her lap and placed it onto the coffee table.

 **Text To** : Gaara🌵, Cherry🌸, Kankurō 🤡

10:13 AM

**_*SEVEN PHOTO ATTACHMENTS*_ **

_Enjoy the baby pictures_ _😉_

Temari cackled too herself, looking over the photos again. Her thumb swiped through the several attachments she had sent of the most embarrassing pictures of Gaara and Kankurō as toddlers. Shikamaru’s head popped out of the kitchen and he looked at her inquisitively.

“Why are you laughing to yourself like a lunatic?”

Temari wiped the lone tear in her eye, still smiling. “No reason,” she said. She drank the last of her tea and rose from the sofa, heading to the shower, leaving her cellphone on the cushions.

The blonde woman returned thirty-minutes later, refreshed, and showered. She grabbed the lonely photo album, tucking it back into its rightful place on the bookshelf.

The sound of her phone buzzing made her turn around. Shikamaru cracked his eye open from his position on the couch. “The damn thing has been going off for the last twenty minutes. Turn it off, I’m trying to nap.” And with that, he closed his eyes, going back to his catnap.

Temari picked up her phone and her eyes widened at the notifications.

 **_*12 Missed Calls from Gaara_ ** _🌵 *****_

 **_*8 Missed Calls from Kankurō_ ** _🤡 *****_

And a single text from Sakura.

 **Text From** : Cherry 🌸

 **To:** Temari

10:39 PM

 _💖_ _💖_ _💖_

* * *

“Gaara, wake up!”

“What?” he said groggily.

“He’s under the covers again.”

“So?”

“He’s biting my toes again.”

There was silence for several seconds before she called out again. “Gaara! Did you fall asleep?”

He jolted awaked and grunted.

“Make Shukaku stop or I’m sleeping downstairs.”

“Fine…”

* * *

The gentle rain pattered lightly against the window—the peaceful drizzle a sharp contrast to the dark storm raging inside of Gaara.

Gaara could feel the throbbing ache in his fists begging him to stop. He dealt blow after blow into the sandbag, his pattern unwavering. He continued to ignore the pain, persisting as he continued to hit harder. 

The chain attached to the ceiling that held the bag strained under the force of Gaara’s strong punches. Heavy panting filled the room as Gaara began to break stride. Sweat ran down his overheated figure, soaking his body and shorts completely. His heavy pants grew louder with every hit, the familiar feeling of physical exhaustion beginning to seep into his bones. His fists moved even faster in a blur of jabs, the wraps on his hands beginning to ooze with blood at the knuckles.

The bag swung towards him again and the final hit that landed was savagely violent. The punch detached the bag from the ceiling and sent it flying across the room. Sand spilled out of the open hole from where Gaara had given it the fatal blow. Flecks of drywall rained down, sticking to his drenched skin and face.

He stayed looking at the fallen bag, continuing to pant, when he heard their bedroom door creak open.

“Gaara?” came the groggy voice of his girlfriend.

“Damn it,” he whispered. He hadn’t meant to wake her. He could hear her steps carry her towards the room with his gym equipment. Taking a quick look at his phone, he saw it was 2:48 am.

Sakura walked into the doorway and stopped. She rubbed her sleepy eyes and yawned, still not fully awake enough to focus on him, or the situation on the floor. “When did you get home?”

He swallowed the lump in his throat and said, “A while ago.”

Her green eyes blinked, fully accessing him, before looking at the fallen sandbag. Her mouth fell open. “What happened?”

He stayed silent and turned his back to her. He wiped his eyes with his thumbs. His sweat was getting into eyes and stinging them, and that was the reason he was crying.

He felt her come up and touch his shirtless back. “Please look at me.”

“Go back to bed Sakura,” he said. He started to unravel the gauze around his knuckles. The bandages had soaked the majority of the blood and now he had to clean the broken skin. He tossed the blood-soaked bandages onto the floor, his eyes taking in the injuries.

Unexpectedly, her delicate arms circled his waist. She placed her forehead onto his sweaty back, hugging him tightly to her chest. She said nothing as she held his still form.

There was nothing particularly grandiose about the gesture. There was nothing magnificent or ground-breaking about the hug, but at that moment, it was everything he needed. Her silent defiance, her unwavering (and borderline stubborn) desire to stay by his side even when he was an asshole.

The hug was everything he had been deprived of as a child, it was everything he had wanted for so long.

She was a strong pillar of reassurance—no matter how difficult things were in his life, no matter how difficult _he_ was, she would always be there.

His journey up until he had met her had been lonely, hate-filled, and spiritless. His life the product of teachings from a selfish and unloving man, a man who had called himself his father. He had not known love could be beautiful and kind until he had met her. The only love he knew before was cold distant. Love had taken the form of countless lonely nights spent locked alone in his bedroom. Love had been strict and harsh punishments subjected upon him for no reason. 

There would always be bad days, and he knew she knew this. Life with him would never be a fairytale romance, but the bad days were few and far between now more than ever.

He looked at his bloody hands and wondered how they had not tainted her yet. He often worried his shadowed past had bled too much into his new life, and that some lingering darkness would unexpectedly appear to ruin her.

Gaara looked up at the ceiling, refusing to let the tears that swam in his eyes cascade down his face. His hands clasped hers.

The silence lingered and it prickled his skin. He needed to get the words out before they burrowed deeper into his skin.

“My father came to the dojo today.”

And that was all he had to say. Her arms tightened around him because those simple words were more enough to make her finally understand.

He turned around in her arms and looked down. Her small stature was a dangerous weapon, he thought. When she looked up at him through those long lashes like that, he had to urge to crumble in her arms

“Would like you to talk about it?” she whispered.

He knew that she wasn’t just asking about the incident at the dojo. The few instances where he recounted his childhood to her were heavily redacted, and for good reason; however, those untold stories were going to need to wait. The physical and mental and emotional fatigue was weighing too heavily on his consciousness. 

Gaara shook his head. “No. Not yet.”

She nodded, her eyes fully understanding. “Okay.”

And this was a solace he had never known. She would wait as long as he needed for those stories. She would wait patiently until he was ready to tell them. He placed his forehead onto hers and closed his eyes—her presence alone was the greatest comfort he had ever known.

* * *

It was raining in Suna.

He couldn’t remember the last time it had rained while the sun was still out. The sweltering heat from the sun coupled with the humidity from the rain was making the afternoon uncomfortable, but what was making the day unbearable was the day itself.

It was November 11th.

The suit he was wearing was drenched from his sweat and from the rain, and he wondered if his mother would have playfully chided him for ruining it.

His hand ran across the headstone over her grave, his fingers trailing over her birthday before halting on the day of his own birth etched into the stone. He had only known her for a couple of measly moments, precious moments he would never remember, and yet, he couldn’t shake the unexplainable bond he felt with his late mother.

Dozens of wet bustles of desert Marigolds were laid out on the ground. Yashamaru had told him they had been her favorite flowers many years ago. His late uncle was buried right next to his mother, where he had requested to be put before his death.

Gaara picked up one of the wet Marigolds, laying it on his uncles’ headstone. And with one final look, he wished his mother and uncle a silent goodbye, turning away, his head hung low and his hands stuffed into his wet pockets.

Underneath an umbrella several feet away, Sakura watched him walk towards her. The red-haired man finally stopped in front of her. His spikey hair was matted to his forehead, obscuring his kanji. Sakura ran her fingers through his hair, spiking it back up into its normal state.

He took her hand in his, pulling her in to kiss her forehead, and he sighed into her skin. Gaara pulled on her hand and the pair silently walked away under the sunny and cheerful shower.

* * *

Sakura pushed the shopping cart along the barren aisles. The twenty-four-hour grocery store was blissfully empty at 1:00 am. Shukaku sat in the child seat, secured safely in his harshness, crunching on a piece of watermelon taken from a prepackaged box in the fruit aisle.

The store staff was familiar with them. They had graciously allowed them to bring the rowdy raccoon in as long as he was on a leash and the employees often fawned over how cute Shukaku looked in the cart’s child seat.

The roseate stopped in front of the meat aisle and was looking through the organic poultry when her lovely boyfriend appeared.

“They don’t have those disgusting frozen dumplings you like.”

Sakura glared at him. “They are not disgusting.”

He scoffed. He threw a pack of frozen sausages in the cart along with several other plastic bags of fresh vegetables.

The pair moved peaceful silence through the scarcely populated store. A few employees stopped to coo at Shukaku, who promptly ignored everyone in favor of his sweet treat.

Sakura grabbed a carton of eggs and placed them into the cart. “Do we need anything else?”

Gaara shrugged. “I’m not sure. I think we have everything we need.”

She tapped in her chin in thought before snapping her fingers. “Ice-cream.”

They made their way toward the refrigerator aisle when Shukaku started to whine. The fat raccoon cried for more watermelon, his body twisted around and his tiny hands stretched towards the packaging that held his treat. Gaara rolled his eyes and swiped the box to give him another piece.

Sakura giggled as he chomped on the fruit. His fur was drenched in the fruity juice from the melon.

“What ice-cream do you want?”

“I don’t know why you ask when you already know.”

Gaara smirked. “I know. I’m waiting for you to pick something that is not so basic.”

He opened the icy door and picked up a carton of vanilla ice-cream. He threw it unceremoniously into the cart.

“You mock my choices in food like your taste isn’t just as bad.”

Gaara narrowed his eyes at her. His preferred dishes were some of the most disgusting things she had ever seen, and she did not understand how he ate them.

“My taste in food is cultured.”

Sakura laughed mockingly at his statement. “You’re so pretentious.”

* * *

Sakura shimmied out of her panties, making sure to shake her ass as she bent over exaggeratedly to pick up the lacy scrap of fabric to throw it towards Gaara. The underwear landed at his feet. She was left completely and breathtakingly nude.

The man in question was quiet. He sat on their couch; his legs spread wide in front of him, a noticeable tint in his sweats was apparent to the roseate. The line between his lips was thin, his shirtless muscled frame taut and perfectly still. His face was blank in that contemplative way like he was trying to commit the gorgeous spectacle in front of him to memory. He could feel his heart pound harder as she bent over again. She looked at him, her head upside down, and giggled at his expression.

He exhaled when she opened her legs, allowing him to see the glistening folds of her sex.

“Get on my lap.” His voice was so deep he barely recognized it.

She walked over to him and straddled him slowly, biting her lip, her hands on his shoulders. He held her hips tightly as he stared up at her.

Sakura leaned forward, lips puckered to tease his firm jaw and his throat. Her fingers traced the satiny muscle under his pale flesh. She moved the appendages slow, stroking his nipple, kissing along the bob of his throat. 

Sakura’s lips sucked his pale flesh into a soft pink color. His body was deliciously warm and the heat of him washed over her.

Her fingers delicately trailed along him, her fine digits tracing the slope of him, feeling bone, hard refined muscle, and tissue. She touched his right clavicle before venturing up to his trapezius. She moved to his deltoid, and below that was his strong bicep, and moving left, the defined muscle of his pectoral—and the thumping of his heart. Her nails were a brilliant seafoam green—bright and beautiful as she plucked and rolled a slowly hardening nipple. His body was a complete work of art.

Sakura kissed down his pale skin, her cherry lip gloss staining and smearing along his chest and circling around his nipple. She suckled tenderly then scraped the bud with her teeth. He kept quiet, but she heard the fluttering thuds beating in his chest, and that told her all she needed to know. The lovely blush on his cheeks spread throughout his body, coloring his ghastly complexion. 

He pulled her head back, fisting a handful of her pink locks into his hand. Her lip gloss is smeared all over her lips and chin. Her tongue poked out to lick her lips sensually.

“Sakura,” he whispered. 

Gaara glided a hand down from her hip until he found her clit. He rubbed it with the pad of his thumb while she gasped and thrashed her hips. “Who does this belong to?”

Her face seemed to burn hotter when she heard his question. “You.”

The redhead nodded. He leaned forward to suck on her nipples, one at a time, his rough fingers still rubbing her clit in tiny circles. He looked up at her, his lips still wrapped around a pink bud, his gaze asking her a question.

“Yours,” she answered.

Her knees splayed were wide on either side of him, her feet tucked neatly beside his thighs. Sakura moved up slightly to hover over him as Gaara pulled his sweats down to his knees, freeing his aching length from its confines. He grabbed the base of his cock, the head already leaking, and guided it to her opening, circling her entrance with the head.

His gaze was dark and bottomless as he helped her sink onto his cock, and they both groaned in pleasure when he was fully buried inside. He closed his eyes at the feel of her pussy. Sakura started to grind into him, trying to set a pace, but he stopped her by holding onto her waist.

“Am I the only one who gets to fuck you like this?” he whispered into ear. “Am I the only one who gets to see you like this?” 

“Only you,” she moaned, squirming in his lap. He only got like this when he was feeling particularly possessive and considering the incident at the dojo earlier that day with Lee and his harmless flirting towards her, coupled with the prolonged heated looks from Sasuke, she understood his behavior. Gaara had never been good at sharing. She supposed she could give him a pass because she had never been good at sharing either.

He was also completely hers and he knew it.

Gaara groaned and pinched her nipple. She clamped down on him in retaliation and he hissed through his teeth. “Now, move. I want to see you take it.” he said huskily.

Sakura did as he commanded— albeit awkwardly, at first— the daze of lust was making her moments desperate and choppy, but she found the right rhythm that worked for both. She dug her fingers into his shoulders with each swivel of her hips. He helped her fuck herself onto him properly, both hands gripping her waist, groaning lowly with each push and drag of his cock against her slick inner walls. The living room was filled with the sounds of their panting and the wet slapping of their flesh.

His seafoam eyes stared into her emerald ones. He was drunk off the feeling, and sight, of his cock disappearing into her swollen pink folds. Sakura was mostly a self-assured woman, but like most, she had her moments of insecurity, and he could not understand for the life of him how. He was a man of few words, and it was his own fault for not communicating it to her more, but he promised himself he would voice how gorgeous she was—to the way she giggled, to how sexy she looked when she got angry, to the way she bounced and moaned on top of him, to the way her pink hair swished and swayed over her shoulders when she fluffed it, to the way her breasts jiggled with her moments when she rode him. There was not a patch of skin on her body that he did not adore.

Gaara could already feel the pressure building deep in his groin, hot and insistent. His finger began rubbing her clit again, the need to make her come was the only thing that mattered to him. Sakura moaned and arched into his touch, her head falling backward, her pink locks tickling his thighs. Taking advantage of her position, the redhead stopped touching her clit to lean forward and graze her nipple with his teeth and pinch the other. The roseate whipped back up with a strangled cry.

Her needy whines grew to a steady pitch as he went back to massaging the sensitive bud with vigor. She began fucking him again in earnest and Gaara surged up beneath her, slamming up into her so hard that they both gasped.

“You’re mine, Sakura,” he growled, stroking her quicker with his thumb.

The sensory overload from sexy his voice, their fast and powerful physical moments, and the sound of their sex slapping overwhelmed her completely. “Gaara, I’m close,” she whimpered. “Gaara, I—” her voice stuttered and stopped completely, her mouth fell open, and with a few more thrusts and strokes to her clit, she came.

“Fuck,” he said. She had stopped moving and he pounded up into her wildly as she orgasmed. She cried out while he fucked her through her orgasm. She dug her fingernails into his shoulders hard as she hovered above him and took the delicious pounding from hips. He slammed into her one finally time and cursed again. Gaara came with a low groan and she whimpered as he filled her with his cum, collapsing into his chest as soon as his hips stilled.

The roseate slipped her sweaty arms around his neck as he encircled her waist. He pulled her face away from his neck to kiss her. Her arms grazed the crescent moons that her nails left on his shoulders, and it stung. The marks were most likely bleeding slightly, but he did not bother him in the slightest. He ground her more on his lap, his cock still twitching inside of her, unwilling to leave the delicious heaven that encased it.

Gaara gently turned them over, so they were lying horizontally across the sofa. His chest nestled into hers as they continued kissing slowly and lazily. The sloppy and sensual kissing got salvia everywhere but considering the mess between their legs, and the sweat caking their skin, neither cared. Sakura broke their kiss and pulled away to look at him.

“Are you happy now?” she said, also pointing towards the cellphone mounted on a tripod, the cellphone that had been recording everything.

He nodded nonchalantly, much more preoccupied with licking at the drop of sweat that traveled between her breasts. Gaara stayed fixated on her chest, licking the underside of the supple flesh then biting it. His focus was broken when a familiar trilling whine sounded out.

The couple craned their necks to look over the side of the sofa to see Shukaku stand up on his back legs to peer up at them. Gaara sighed.

“I thought you locked him in our room.”

“I did, Gaara. He keeps getting out.”

He sat up and pulled out of her. He groaned at the sight before him. Gaara stopped a moment to enjoy the mess he’d made between her legs, pulling one of her folds with his thumb to watch his cum roll out of her.

Shukaku whined again and he got up. Gaara hurriedly pulled his sweatpants up and grabbed Shukaku, carrying him towards the kitchen. He poured food into the mischievous raccoon’s bowl before walking back to the living room. Sakura was still catching her breath, legs still splayed wide open.

He walked to his cellphone and stopped the recording. He looked at her pointedly.

“Will you be able to delete the part where Shukaku came in?”

Sakura threw her hand over her eyes and giggled. “Yes, I can.”

Gaara grunted, “Good.”


End file.
